This was new
by Joyeaux5-10
Summary: Guerrero doesn't know what to think of a young lady (my OC) who (as much as he'd hate to admit) Saved him. Most of the time I write fluffy and smutty lemonade! This has more plot, let me know if I should keep going. There will be sex and violence, only if you are good kiddies and review. I own nothing, no copyright infringement intended
1. Chapter 1

in Russian as she shrunk behind the brunette, knowing what about to happen, rape, torture, death, well maybe not in that order but that was the general gist. The brunette was crying, not blubbering or gasping sobs (those get old quick) a few stray tears as she spoke quietly in English (she sounded American), saying things that made the big ape feel more in control. She was begging, but not really begging, she was giving him what he wanted, doing her best to keep her and her friend alive. Brave kid, smart kid, but bravery makes smart people stupid. She was already cut up some; she kept herself between the red faced gorilla and the blonde who seemed to be who he really wanted. Real shame… oh well, good ones die first!

Guerrero sighed and shook his head at his former business associate as he entered the room.

"Nick, I don't think I can do business with you anymore…"

"Vut, so I am vew minnits late…" Guerrero sighed again. "Because ov him?"

"They saw my face, I hate when civilians see my face."

"No von will vind their bodies, do not worry friend!" That reduced the blonde into a slobbering mess. The sloppiness of their operation would have been enough for him to cut ties; that was not the reason this was going to end the way it did, the way it had to. Nick was a rat, and if Guerrero had anything to do with it rats died one of three ways, none of them pretty. Guerrero heard the metallic click of a hammer being pulled back behind him; at least they did a half way decent job at double-crossing. His guess was three behind him two more on the other side of the door Chris had just come through.

"Aaarrgg!" Red ape half screamed, his yell was drown into a gargle as he started to choke on his own blood. Brunette just ripped his throat open, bit open to be more acierate. Guerrero dropped the two behind him, right as the brunette got Chris with the ape's gun, Guerrero added his own bullets to make sure, and got the two that came in guns blazing too late.

"I suggest you leave." Guerrero exited how he had entered leaving the briefcase bomb behind. Chance was making him soft, should have finished those girls. He could hear brunette dragging her friend along behind. They would get out before it went off, might even clear the blast.

"Glasses 3 O'clock!" Brunette Screamed, Guerrero's hand was on the car door, he wouldn't be able to get a shot off in time. He had counted correctly when he scooped out the place; seven not six, and seven had a shotgun.

"Damn…" A loud bang-bang and number seven dropped. Guerrero slumped against his car; he had been shot, the warning had helped along with his vest, he'd been able to avoid most of the shotgun blast. He had felt a second pain cut past his right shoulder split seconds before bullet ripped into the chest of number seven. Brunette was screaming get in as she pushed him into the car, blonde got into the back still crying as brunette told everyone to buckle up and pulled out of the ally like a bat out of hell. Guerrero realized the brunette had grazed him with the red apes 44mm by the time he was painfully jostled by the large bump that was the caddy driving over number seven.

"Dude, you shot me…" He said thickly.

"Sorry about that…" She was glancing in all the mirrors, sure enough BOOOOM, the two girls jumped. "Just the one?" She was looking for at Guerrero for an answer.

"Yeah…" He shifted trying to put more pressure on his wound.

"Do you speak English?" Brunette's looking at the blonde in the mirror.

"Dude…" Guerrero half chuckled the blonde wasn't her friend, she didn't even know her. Chance would love this kid.

"Take your shirt off… Take… We need to stop the bleeding. Stop the bleeding, he's hurt." Brunette was trying to get the blonde to help stop the bleeding. Wasn't working, she was a complete mess. Brunette was starting to loss her cool too. She finally pulled over.

"I wouldn't do that in this neigh… neighborhood." Guerrero was getting weaker from blood loss.

"Yeah, well I don't have a clue where I am so I need you conscious, telling me where to go." She removed her already bloody shirt and demanded the blondes. She finally had enough of her water works and slapped the shirt out of her. "You are frightened they will get you? Worried they are still coming for you? Count on it! But don't worry about that, you saw what I did to him. You should be afraid of what I will do to you if this man dies! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" In a different context most people would hardly call her intimidating, she was five foot nothing and maybe ninety pounds soaking wet. But now with fresh blood covering her face and neck, blood from a man she'd killed with her teeth intimidating would be putting it mildly. They did the best they could, both of their hands were shaking as they worked on him but they did a good job with what they had in less than four minutes. He stressed the need to keep moving. "Are hospital options? Or somewhere you can get fixed up?"

"Yeah my Bat-cave…" He chuckled and finally found his cell. "Chance, I got in a fender bender, could use some help. Yeah now, or now-ish, blood stains are a bitch, especially when they're your own. Not sure, hold on. Hey brunette, I need street names…" Guerrero aka Mr. Glasses guided the young brunette to where Chance and an ambulance were waiting for them.

All of them piled into together, Guerrero was stabilized as brunette answered questions. This girl had Guerrero's interests peaked; she was shaking but still doing a good job of keeping things together. Who the hell was this kid?

"I was, well, I assume we were held and drugged, not sure how long, what day is it? Special K and heroin, I think… " She showed injection marks. " Oh and we'll both need rape kits, I hurt all over so I have no clue if that happened or not. But if we could get started on treatment for STD's just in case, and check for HEP C, needles ya know. No, I don't know her. I'm a student. Oh, and I shot his right shoulder." She gave him an apologetic look, and shrugged. "I didn't want to hurt him, he was in the way of a shot, but I took it. My apologies Mr. Glasses."

"Mr. Glasses?" Chance questioned eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, Chance, this is my good friend Brunette…"

"It's Miss Brunette to people I haven't shot yet." Her teeth were chattering as she gave him a slop-sided grin and shook Christopher's hand.

She wanted to going to a hospital but it didn't take much to convince her because of the people involved to be treated privately and not to involve the police. Before Guerrero was taken way for surgery he heard her yell.

"Thanks Mr. Glasses…"


	2. Chapter 2

When Guerrero came two he was surprised to hear what sounded like Gioachino being played on a piano, _not_ a recording. It wasn't perfect, but it was played with feeling as it drifted through a half open door. It stopped then started again, whoever was playing seemed to have forgotten what the next cords were once they came to a cretin spot, and rather than fumble through they stopped playing.

The room he was in was a nice set up, state of the art machinery with expensive but tasteful decor that screamed Ilsa Pucci. There was another bed (unmade) across from his.

"Please thank Mrs. Pucci for me, but I don't need to see a plastic surgeon; I have plenty of scars worse than what these will be…" Brunette walked back into the room, closing the door in the face of whoever she had been talking to. "Hey there Mr. Glasses, other than being shot, how ya feeling?" Her left arm (like his) was in a sling, or should have been, she wasn't using it.

"You don't look so bad yourself kid." Her face was bruised but swelling was gone, the shallow cuts on her neck were bandaged, and her wrists may still have been raw, but they were healing. The natural tan to her olive skin had returned and she no longer looked dehydrated. She was rather beautiful even as banged up as she was; he was having trouble judging her age, he'd made the assumption that she was in her teens. But she had handled everything so well…

"Where'd your blonde friend go?" She didn't maintain eye contact as she sat down on her bed.

"Home…" Her knuckles were white from squeezing her fists shut. "Where ever that is." She was starting to shake. "Zombie Jesus." She cursed under her breath. He guessed she was going through withdraws.

"They didn't put you on a drip line?"

"Wouldn't let them, just trading one drug with another, isn't too bad, had worse…"

"So, you've said." She shrugged then pulled the blankets over herself to help with the chill she had begun to feel again.

"Pain is weakness leaving the body…"

"Jarhead?"

"Yeah, family thing…"

"You?"

"Nope, I'm just the art student with a knack for being in the wrong place and the right time…" She stopped at a knock at the door, Chance entered with flowers and whisky.

"Hey Guerrero, how do you feel?" Chance set down the whisky on his comrade's bedside table. Guerrero half shrugged, waving his arm in response, making Chance smile a little as he moved towards the brunette. "And how are you Daniela?" He put the flowers down subconsciously frowned at her bruises.

"Hey don't like at me like that pretty boy! Mr. Glas… or what was it, Guerrero?" She played with the name rolling the R's as she repeated it; she continued noticing she had gotten off topic. "Anyway, Guerrero is in worse physical shape, I've never been all together upstairs." She smiled after she stuck her tongue out at him. She then did an impression of a parrot, first whistled then squawked _"Pretty bird I am"_ and then squawked and whistled again _"Pretty bird."_

"Well I think so." He gave her a charming smile. "The doctors have your test results back, if you like I can go get…"

"Oh no, I'm not talking to that bitch again! And I've got a feeling you sneaked a peak at my chart. Lay it on me handsome, Glasses has already seen my boobs, never been that shy anyway." Chance laughed again smiling at her bravery and attitude.

"No sexual assault, no STD's and negative for HEP C. Shoulders will be find, looks like you've had them dislocated before. You should recover soon."

"Good to know. Thank you by the way, I like flowers…"

"I also got you this." Chance pulled out a cellphone and gave it to her, Daniela's (aka Brunette) eyes brightened.

"Thanks, but I didn't get you anything… Here…" She sat up and handed him back the flowers. "Some handsome chump gave these to me; you can have them, if you like that sort of thing." Chance just laughed and put them back down as she dialed a number, her fingers fidgeted as she waited for them to pick up.

Chance let her make her call pulling the chair he'd been sitting in across to Guerrero's bed. Guerrero did his best to listen to both conversations

_"Hey Boo, Boo! Yep it's me!"_

"You know I typically don't ask…" Chance started

"Then don't." Guerrero interrupted his face blank.

"…or I wouldn't if it wasn't for the girls…"

_"Mi sei mancato molto!"_ Ha! Knew it, she's Italian! Just an art student, my ass….

"Completely unrelated to my delivery."

"So you'd never seen them before, no clue who they are, no names…"

"Until just now all she was, was brunette…" _"Miss Brunette!"_ Daniela interjected. "That's still all she is to me." He planned on doing some research on "Miss Brunette" before. But now that Chance was making a big deal about it, it was inching its way to the top of his to do list.

"Well… there is that part about, you know; her saving your life…" It was Chances turn to shrug and then stare with a blank face.

"No, not really." Chance made an uncommitted noise. "Dude, she shot me."

"Barely, I've been to the crime scene, did my own investigation… People remembered seeing two topless, well shirtless girls in a car, but no you. They didn't close ranks cause they just thought they were kids who got high and took a caddy or a joy ride."

"Well they're not wrong, they were doped and that caddy is stolen."

_"A presto, love you! Bye!"_ Damn missed the rest of what she said. "Glasses is the only reason I'm alive, I think we could call it even Mr. Chance." Daniela flatly stated. Chance turned to face her as he replied.

"I spoke with your Uncle, he is very grateful to Guerrero; he said wanted to celebrate sometime." Her face darkened slightly at the mention of her "Uncle" Guerrero knew Chance was trying to gage her reaction as well.

"That's good news for you Glasses; he celebrates with cash more often than not. And thanks for stopping by Mr. Chance, I'm gonna try to nap, "enjoy" me some sweaty nightmares." She smiled and settled back into her bed.

By that evening Guerrero was up and about and Daniela was gone. A few days later Guerrero and Mrs. Pucci relieved formal invitations to the Kensington Villa somewhere in the hills on the coast; where a welcome home party was to be held for Miss Daniela at the end of the month, if Guerrero (the guest of honor) was feeling well enough by then. It would also be their family's privet nod to the Cantine Aperte. They were each given a plus one card and asked to reply within the week. The invitations alone cost over two hundred dollars apiece. Made out of mostly cloth, water marked, hand embossed, platinum script; they were difficult to forge. Money doesn't mean better, but it does mean you want to make an impression. Guerrero wasn't sure what that impression was yet, but he would soon find out.

When he finally had some time to do some research he learned the address was to an eight bedroom mediterranean style villa originally built in 1929. Those blueprints were an easy find. However 20 years ago it had been remolded, those plans took a bit more digging. The villa and everything in a square mile had been bought by an Italian national who had diplomatic status with the United States (diplomatic red tape made it harder to find). All the other residences were demolished; most of the land was turned into a wildlife refuge with strategic fire breaks (gorges, moats and huge rock walls). Some smaller homes were built close to the main villa, which was where the staff lived; no one worked there who didn't also live there. It was a cute little compound, could easily self sustain for months. The beauty was the low-teck security of it all. Couldn't be hacked and you had a small village to get through undetected. Many of the homes had dogs and all had the newest in humane wild animal deterrents. Motion sensor alarms and automatic lights scattered randomly around the homes. The most popular one was an attachment to a sprinkler head that would spray, light up and sound a high pitched alarm if something came too close. They ran on battery and solar power, too many and too wide spread for an EMP to be used effectively. You could do it with one or two on foot if the topography hadn't been altered to the point if you wanted to enter from anywhere other than the main path you would practically need a tank or a lot of antivenom. Guerrero really didn't like snakes; he didn't mind using them to then "stressing" answers from people but there is always a chance of getting bit.

The aerial surveillance photos he'd gotten from a drone confirmed what he had suspected. It was one of Bianchi's properties. Bianchi was a business man; most of what he dealt with was squeaky clean. All of his operations were built in a similar manner; he paid for everything in his staffs lives, everything! Housing was all close to and/or on whatever business or property he owned (which was quite a few). He took the meaning of keeping it all in the family to a different level. Everyone was a part of something; no one was a part of everything, all of one, one for all. Master of manipulation, he was one of the greats that still did it old school. The villa was in Bianchi wife's name Kensington.

Guerrero found out all he could about him and his distant cousin (not niece) Daniela. He had been unsuccessful finding anything useful when it came to Daniela. Until two years ago she was just a social security number and birth certificate. Daniela Nantan born May of 1989, to Jacob Nantan; three quarters Apache and one quarter Cherokee and Maria (Rossi) Nantan; second generation Sicilian American from New York. Some person(s) had worked hard to keep them off the grid.

"Looking to build? Buy? Or just casing the joint?" Guerrero ignored Ames as she tried to make conversation. As he went over the finer parts of varying out comes to the party. No one was currently gunning for Bianchi, but he still took into account possible attempts on his or his family's lives. He wasn't happy his name was on a guest list, but this one wasn't going to be shown around much. Bianchi was all about privacy and loyalty. All the vagueness surrounding Bianchi and this party (which would be very expensive judging from the invitation) had caught the attention of Ames.

Ilsa had already sent by her reply with Chance as her plus one. Guerrero had a feeling that was why Ames was sniffing around his work space. He had already decided what to do when she asked to come along, now he just had to wait for her to make her move.

"Heard something about a party…" She eyed him. "You, Chance and Ilsa are going to…"

"This there a point you are going to make sometime today? Because I have something I need to mail."

"Cool, who's your date, I mean if you have a date…"

"Winston?" Guerrero peered around Ames to Winston who was sitting at his desk. He declined Guerrero's offer by simply saying…

_"Pass." _

"So you plan on going stag or are you really looking for a date?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes…You can come with." She started to pump her fist in the air. "But it will cost you!" She froze then slowly lowered her arm.

"Like what…?" The slightest glimmer of fear shined from the back of her eyes. That had him happy.

"Your voice…" He pulled out a book of sign-language and a clicker for keeping score at golf and dropped then in front of her. "Unless we are on a job, I don't want to hear your voice. If there is an absolute need for you to speak, like we are on a job, you will have a word limit!" He pointed to the clicker. "That will help you keep track."

"WHAT! You can't be serious? For how long? When would I have to star…"

"Starting right now, don't worry you can talk as much as you want at the party. But the next fifteen days until then, if you want to go, I won't hear your voice unless it is absolutely necessary." She was quite thinking it over. "Should I write your name down?" She gave him a dirty look before giving him a cheesy smile and two thumbs up then walked away flipping him off as she left the room. Guerrero caught Winston's eyes, which were wide in disbelief as they grinned at each other.

"You diabolical bastard, I hope it lasts." Winston and Guerrero both chuckled as they went back to work.

It did, of course she talked all she wanted when Guerrero wasn't around. As tempting as it was to sneak in while she was blabbing away Guerrero didn't. He wanted this is work, enjoyed it a great deal, wished he'd thought of it sooner, but knew it would be fleeting. It was better that way, Ames wasn't going to change who she was… Chance had reminded him of that (like he could forget) to which he replied.

"I think you forget that I'm not a nice guy. Winston' a "nice" guy and I'm sure he's thought about breaking her jaw." Ames learned some sign-language but for the most part carried a notebook and pen to hold up for them to read. Or she would send paper airplanes to them from across the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks went by fast, Guerrero had healed nicely. Nothing had been broken, some of the shot went deep, but most was what Guerrero would call superficial. Chance had told him early on he planned on keeping an eye on Daniela as she recovered. Guerrero just nodded, acting uninterested. Chance knew better, Guerrero would do his own form of surveillance.

She didn't have an electric surveillance system; just double paned glass, three locks, a dog and busy apartment complex with "friendly" neighbors. He went to place cameras (a week after receiving the invitation) when she went for a jog with the large white dog (looked like American bulldog) she lived with. He would have about 35 minutes until she returned. She could run a 12 minute mile for six miles straight, though typically would run for one and a half, and then came back to her apartment (which equals 3 miles) for a drink of water and to run up and down stairs a few times. She then would run another one and a half and return. She never took the same path two days in a row, and sometimes ran for three miles and then walked back. However he learned as he tried to enter her apartment she had two identical dogs (man was that dog loud). Which could have been why she split up her time the way she did, seemed her and her "Uncle" thought a like.

After that day she knew something had happened and left to stay with Bianchi at the Kensington villa. She didn't take much with her so once she was gone he learned what he could from the place.

The first thing he saw was a life size black and white picture of a naked little girl with her back to the camera standing in the desert. It was tastefully done and quite beautiful. There were pictures of her father in dress blues and of her mother when she was pregnant. Next to that was a statue of the Goddess Kali. Photo albums showed she had been in dance and gymnastics, hunted and did a lot of volunteer work. The dogs were Dogo Argentinos; sisters that came from a litter of Bianchi's prized bitch.

The décor nodded to her father's heritage without being tacky and she had a thing for blue birds and rattlesnakes. Almost everything she had was earth friendly, most made in American. She stocked up on essentials and her cosmetics; they were all natural and sported labels that said no animal testing. Most of her clothes were hand made by her, and though she sported a slightly hipster vibe it wasn't over done.

Her art said a lot more about her. Guilt, self-loathing, anger were present in many. Other's full of love and passion, her work changed drastically from each piece; some showed the arc of her emotions. He would bet she was Bi Polar. She was well read, her top three appeared to be; crime and punishment, animal farm and the works of Lewis Carroll. Her taste in music and food was as varied as her art. She liked body jewelry (like belly and back chains, unpierced nipple rings and chains) and had a large collection of lingerie. But she didn't have a man in her life, condoms were almost outdated. She was very driven and street smart, a lot smarter than an average 23 year old student, but still pretty typical.

He hadn't learned much, if anything he felt he knew less about her, having believed his assumptions would have been correct. He had learned; to his great surprise her relation to Bianchi really had nothing to do with her abduction. She had tried to help the blonde escape her attackers. Like she had said, she was at the wrong place at right time.


End file.
